It is unquestionable that the country was not prepared for the final
action of this Convention. In various sections of the Eastern and
Middle States, the antecedents and even the name of Mr. Lincoln were
entirely unknown. The newspapers announced the nominee as the “Illinois
Rail-splitter;” and however popular this title may have been with
the masses, it is not to be denied that it seemed to many people a
very extraordinary qualification for the Presidency. An acquaintance
of mine, who happened to be in Boston on the evening of the day the
Convention adjourned, formed one of a large group at his hotel, eagerly
discussing the result. Only one or two of the party knew anything
whatever of the first name on the “ticket,” and what they knew was
soon told. Considerable disappointment could be seen in the faces of
those composing the circle. One rough-looking sovereign, from Cape
Cod, or Nantucket, had listened attentively, but taken no part in
the conversation. Turning away at length, with an expression of deep
disgust, he muttered: “A set of consummate fools! Nominate a man for
the Presidency who has never smelt salt water!”
Some of Mr. Lincoln’s immediate neighbors were taken as completely by
surprise as those in distant States. An old resident of Springfield
told me that there lived within a block or two of his house, in that
city, an Englishman, who of course still cherished to some extent the
ideas and prejudices of his native land. Upon hearing of the choice at
Chicago he could not contain his astonishment.
“What!” said he, “_Abe Lincoln_ nominated for President of the United
States? Can it be possible! A man that buys a ten-cent beefsteak for
his breakfast, and carries it home himself.”
A correspondent of the “Portland Press” has given to the public the
following account of Mr. Lincoln’s reception of the nomination:--
“In June, 1860, a Massachusetts gentleman was induced to take the
opportunity, in company with several delegates and others interested
in the objects of the Convention, to go to Chicago and spend a few
days in visiting that section of our country. In a very few minutes
after the final balloting, when Mr. Lincoln was nominated, it happened
that a train of cars started upon the Central Railroad, passing
through Springfield, and Mr. R. took passage in the same. Arriving
at Springfield, he put up at a public house, and, loitering upon the
front door-steps, had the curiosity to inquire of the landlord where
Mr. Lincoln lived. While giving the necessary directions, the landlord
suddenly remarked, ‘There is Mr. Lincoln now, coming down the sidewalk;
that tall, crooked man, loosely walking this way. If you wish to see
him, you will have an opportunity by putting yourself in his track.’
“In a few moments the object of his curiosity reached the point the
gentleman occupied, who, advancing, ventured to accost him thus: ‘Is
this Mr. Lincoln?’ ‘That, sir, is my name,’ was the courteous reply.
‘My name is R., from Plymouth County, Massachusetts,’ returned the
gentleman, and learning that you have to-day been made the public
property of the United States, I have ventured to introduce myself,
with a view to a brief acquaintance, hoping you will pardon such
a patriotic curiosity in a stranger.’ Mr. Lincoln received his
salutations with cordiality, told him no apology was necessary for his
introduction, and asked him to accompany him to his residence. He had
just come from the telegraph office, where he had learned the fact
of his nomination; and was on his return home, when Mr. R. met and
accompanied him thither.
“Arriving at Mr. Lincoln’s residence, he was introduced to Mrs.
Lincoln and the two boys, and entered into conversation in relation to
the Lincoln family of the Old Colony,--the Hingham General Lincoln of
the Revolutionary army, and the two Worcester Lincolns, brothers, who
were governors of Massachusetts and Maine at one and the same time.
In reply to Mr. R.’s inquiry, whether he could trace his ancestry to
either of those early families of his own name, Mr. Lincoln, with
characteristic facetiousness, replied that he could not say that he
ever had an ancestor older than his father; and therefore had it not
in his power to trace his genealogy to so patriotic a source as old
General Lincoln of the Revolution; though he wished he could. After
some further pleasant conversation, chiefly relating to the early
history of the Pilgrim Fathers, with which he seemed familiar, Mr.
R. desired the privilege of writing a letter to be despatched by the
next mail. He was very promptly and kindly provided with the necessary
means. As he began to write, Mr. Lincoln approached, and tapping him
on the shoulder, expressed the hope that he was not a spy who had come
thus early to report his faults to the public. ‘By no means, sir,’
protested Mr. R.; ‘I am writing home to my wife, who, I dare say, will
hardly credit the fact that I am writing in your house.’ ‘O, sir,’
rejoined Mr. Lincoln, ‘if your wife doubts your word, I will cheerfully
indorse it, if you will give me permission;’ and taking the pen from
Mr. R., he wrote the following words in a clear hand upon the blank
page of the letter:--
“‘I am happy to say that your husband is at the present time a
guest in my house, and in due time I trust you will greet his safe
return to the bosom of his family.